


I'm Falling Again

by jaerie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Break Up Talk, Canon Compliant, Depressed Harry, Established Relationship, Fights, Loneliness, M/M, Making Up, Married Couple, Mentions of Bearding, Miscommunication, closeting, kind of canon compliant prior to what happens in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaerie/pseuds/jaerie
Summary: Harry sat on the edge of the bed, looked down at the screen of his phone and pressed call once again.  The bright smiling faces of Louis’ contact photo stared up at him, his own cheek pressed up against Louis’, the tips of their noses burned a rosy red from the hot Jamaican sun.  Just like the last three times, his call went straight to voicemail, driving home the fact of just how badly he’d fucked up.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 43
Kudos: 381





	I'm Falling Again

**Author's Note:**

> falling hit me HARD. so hard. still not over it. i'm not going to survive this video. so i thought i should post this before i'm lost to the imagery.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, looked down at the screen of his phone and pressed call once again. The bright smiling faces of Louis’ contact photo stared up at him, his own cheek pressed up against Louis’, the tips of their noses burned a rosy red from the hot Jamaican sun. Just like the last three times, his call went straight to voicemail, driving home the fact of just how badly he’d fucked up. Louis always answered his calls. 

He wilted in on himself and let the phone slide from the grasp of his fingers. It clunked to the floor with a thunk hardly muted by the thin rug beneath his feet. It felt like the heavy thud of his heart as he buried his face in his hands and let out a long, frustrated breath. This wasn’t how he’d expected his night to end. 

It was hard being separated for such long stretches of time, but that didn’t excuse the words that Harry had thrown like weapons nor the baggage he’d ripped opened and strewn about – the baggage they’d so carefully stowed away years ago when their careers had taken off. Now it was weighing Harry down again and he had no one to blame but himself and the libations he’d indulged in.

He pulled his fingers through his hair and then deflated as his eyes fell on the lowball on the night stand, caramel coloured liquid diluted by the melting ice cubes. He picked it up and walked it into the bathroom to dump the contents into the sink in an angry splash that left dark drips clinging to the sides of the white porcelain. The sound echoed against the tile when he set the glass down on the marble countertop and it made him flinch. He had the urge to throw it against the floor just to hear it shatter, but he’d already broken enough tonight.

He ran some water to wash down the lingering liquid from the glass and couldn’t even bring himself to look at his reflection in the mirror. He couldn’t look himself in the eye and confront what he’d done. He wasn’t ready to face his actions. It was easier to recoil into himself and maybe find a place where he didn’t exist at all. He was the last person he wanted around right now and it seemed like avoiding his reflection was the only way to avoid himself.

Still fully clothed, he curled up on the bed he’d claimed as his facing the empty side that Louis had claimed as his own from the beginning. It was still difficult for Harry not to leave room for him even when they were apart. The absence now felt monumental and an ache pulled at his stomach that the other half might never be occupied by Louis again. It made him choke out a sob and pull his knees closer to his chest. The high waisted corduroys were uncomfortable where they cut into his waist, but he didn’t take them off. He deserved it. 

The loop of conversation circled in his memory relentlessly, a reel that started just before the moment Harry knew he had taken things too far and ending right after he’d still driven the knife in anyway. The words taunted him and churned the guilt that made it hard to take in a full breath.

It had started out like any of their daily phone calls, the kind that usually ended up with at least one long distance orgasm and the sound of Louis’ voice lulling him to sleep. Harry still wasn’t sure why it had gone south exactly. What he did know was that it was probably his fault. 

_ “Saw the pictures of you out with your girlfriend today.”  _

_ Harry knew his comment had come out a bit sharp, but he blamed it on the alcohol and brushed it off. Louis knew how he was. Then a long sigh came through the speaker from thousands of miles away on the other end of the line.  _

_ “Wish you wouldn’t call her that. You’re one of the only people I don’t have to keep this up for.”  _

_ “Yeah, well, I get the feeling you don’t need me for much more than that anymore,” Harry muttered. It was petty. It was childish. He didn’t mean it, not even a little bit, but he couldn’t erase the words once they were out.  _

_ “Why are you being like this? Is this about last week?”  _

_ Harry hadn’t even been thinking about that. Louis had been asked to fill a last minute spot at a festival and they both knew it would be massive promo for his upcoming album. Harry had pouted but hadn’t hesitated before assuring him it would be okay to cancel his visit to the studio. He was so proud of his husband and what he’d accomplished so he could manage being lonely for a little longer this time. He was busy with his album anyway. It was easier to distract himself from the passing days. But Harry still missed him and sometimes that feeling didn’t manifest in a very mature way.  _

_ “Two weeks,” Harry said instead, “You promised we’d never go longer than two weeks. And you took your girlfriend with you instead.” _

_ Harry was pressing all the buttons in the elevator now and he could hear the edge to Louis’ long exhale.  _

_ “This isn’t easy for me either,” Louis said and Harry could tell he was getting irritated. He knew, yet he still picked up a stick to poke the bear.  _

_ “You make it look easy! Easy to erase me from your life and replace everything with her. You won’t even talk about me in your interviews, like we were never in a band together, like you don’t even know who I am, but it’s easy for you to wax-poetic about her!”  _

_ “If you’d quit writing so many damn songs that are so obviously about me, maybe my team wouldn’t be pushing it so much!”  _

_ “We were ready, Louis! I was ready, my team was ready. We planted so many seeds with those songs!” Harry’s heart thudded in his chest, every fiber of his being trying to resist such a confrontation with Louis, but he was on a rollercoaster and he couldn’t find a way to get off. They’d done this all before back when they were younger, back when they were fresh and unable to define the line between their personal and public lives. They’d come to terms with it a long time ago when they’d finally accepted it as a necessary – and temporary – struggle. They’d be out and proud and successful one day and prove all of the suits wrong. Harry didn’t know he’d been harbouring so much resentment until it was spilling out of him. It wasn’t even resentment towards Louis yet that’s where it was being directed. “And who pulled out of it? You! You did!” _

_ “You know it wasn’t like that,” Louis said through gritted teeth.  _

_ “Then what was it like?? Because it looks like you’re having so much fun off with your girlfriend while you keep me hidden away like something to be ashamed of.” _

_ “Fuck you, Harry.”  _

_ Harry hadn’t heard that level of anger from Louis in a long time and it would have scared him if he didn’t plow right past it.  _

_ “Fuck you, too!!” _

_ Louis’ voice was eerily level when he spoke again after a silence that was slowly bringing Harry back to reality.  _

_ “I can’t do this with you, Haz, I can’t. I— I think I need some time.”  _

_ The line was dead before Harry could gather anything to say.  _

Minutes ticked by slowly, each one feeling like an hour as Harry watched the green glow of the digital numbers mark the passing of time. Louis’ phone was still off the last time he’d tried it seven minutes before and he was twitching to try it again. With the time difference, it would be close to noon for Louis. 

Harry wondered where he would go for lunch or what he would order in. Louis was never great about taking care of himself when Harry wasn’t around. Harry was jealous of how he stayed in shape considering all the junk food he consumed. Maybe none of that would be any of Harry’s business anymore. The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Harry was the morning person in the house so everyone knew something was off when they didn’t find him in the kitchen cooking breakfast or filling up the blender for morning margaritas. It made it easier to beg off working on the album for a day though he knew he’d be upset with himself for it later. 

He let himself out onto the balcony off his bedroom once nature forced him out of the fetal position and he stood in his rumpled clothes and stared out across the landscape that had never truly felt like home. All of his memories that were anchored in California were tied to Louis and it brought on a new ache that threatened to taint every single one of them until nothing good remained. He turned and slipped back inside before he could dwell on that for long. 

The numbers on the clock continued to slowly shift and his clothes stayed uncomfortable and he didn’t move from the bed until someone ripped the covers back and forced him into the shower. Everything was a blur on autopilot as he washed his hair and scrubbed his body and sobbed while his tears could disappear with the water that made his skin glow pink. 

He walked down the hall towards the sound of the piano with nothing but the towel around his waist. Water droplets still dripped onto his chest from his hair and the chill made him feel alive for the first time since the call had ended. None of it felt real but time was still moving. 

He rested his cheek against the piano and tried to hold back a sob as the string of notes stirred something in him. He couldn’t help it. 

The song was written in less than an hour and recorded by the end of the day. He held it close to his heart like it was the only thing holding the last pieces together. It might be the last thing he had left. 

Weeks and he still hadn’t heard from Louis. He never gave up trying to dial his number but it always went straight to his voicemail and the sound of the fake voice he used when he was trying to be professional asking him to leave a message. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t  _ his _ Louis. 

Louis’ scheduled trip came and went with no word and it was all Harry could do to keep from dissolving into a sobbing mess every time something reminded him of his husband. Unfortunately, that was almost everything after a decade of sharing their lives. He almost went as far as banning cereal from the kitchen so he wouldn’t walk in on a box of Coco Puffs and break down. He felt drained and exhausted and it had started to affect the album process.

It shouldn’t have been surprising when he was ordered to fly home, nobody taking no for an answer. They had no way of knowing that sending him home would be sending him right into the heart of the issue. Harry didn’t like to air his dirty laundry with the people he worked with. They didn’t need to know that he’d single handedly flushed his marriage down the toilet, not when he didn’t even know if that was the case. It just felt like everything was over. 

He wasn’t sure what awaited him back at the house. Their joint calendar said that Louis was scheduled to play some charity event so it was probable that he wouldn’t even be home while Harry was in town. He wasn’t even sure if he could still call it his home and wondered if booking a hotel room would be what Louis would want him to do. Maybe Louis had already moved out and he’d open the door to the home they shared to find him surgically removed from every closet, corner and shelf. Maybe he’d walk in on someone else, his replacement, someone who didn’t throw words like weapons when they were lonely, someone he could easily tuck away. 

Harry didn’t think he’d be able to bear walking in on his husband’s new lover, couldn’t bear even thinking about the finality of what that would mean. He couldn’t let Louis go so easily without even having a conversation first. While admitting he had fucked up was difficult, he also knew that it was the only way to start repairing the damage, but he couldn’t even apologize if Louis wasn’t taking his calls. 

Waiting for his flight, Harry pulled out his laptop and chewed on his lip while an internal struggle played out in his heart. He opened a new email and attached the file he kept saved on his desktop just so he was always reminded it was there. It was raw, it was emotional, and it was the most honest thing Harry had ever written. It could be heard in every note of the song, every change of chord. There was a need tugging at him to crack himself open and share it with Louis, to expose himself in his most vulnerable state and hope that he would at least give Harry a chance to admit that he was sorry even if he could never take back the salt he’d rubbed in old wounds.

He filled in the address, closed his eyes, and hit send. It wasn’t that they never shared songs with each other before they were finished, but they often let a natural separation happen between their work and personal lives. They’d spent so much of their relationship together in their music that it felt natural to find their way through their solo projects on their own. It made him burst with pride to hear one of Louis’ final mixes for the first time as he would hear it on the radio. It made him sit with butterflies while he watched Louis listen to one of his, Louis’ beaming smile the best reward. 

Louis would know this meant something. He would know it was different. That didn’t mean that he would open it, though, once he saw it. 

It was out of his hands now as he closed his laptop and tucked it away. He popped a few sleep aids before he even boarded, begging for the blessing of sleep to relieve him from a long flight of turmoil. 

It was dreary in London when the plane touched down and the welcoming weather matched his disposition. It wouldn’t feel right to arrive under a sunny sky. 

The car service picked him up on the runway and it was a long drive in the silence of the back seat. He closed his eyes against the sights and swallowed around the ever rising lump of anxiety in his throat. He’d checked for a response from Louis as soon as his service had restored, but his inbox remained void of any new messages. It made his heart sink even farther. 

He took his time lifting his bags from the trunk even though a gentle drizzle now fell from the sky. It was fitting to feel his clothes grow cold and damp as everything else within him felt the same. 

The sensation high in the back of his throat reminded him that he wasn’t emotionally stable enough to handle whatever he would find on the other side of his front door. It wouldn’t take more than a single shoe missing from its place to set him off into another round of tears. 

It was eerily quiet when he stepped inside and closed the heavy door behind him. The sound of his keys in the bowl on the small table echoed like a crash and the sound of his suitcase on the hardwood sounded like the finality of a gavel. 

At first glance, everything looked exactly the way he had left it months before as if frozen in time. For anyone else, this might not be alarming, but Louis wasn’t like Harry. Louis was messy and chaotic on a good day. Even when he tidied up when Harry was coming home after some time away, his mark was always visible the second he walked through the door. 

The hook on the wall was empty where Louis’ worn out hoodie usually hung and it was enough to push a wave of tears across his vision. He gasped out a sob and his handbag fell to the ground next to his boots as he felt himself coming to terms with the devastating effects of what he had done. His legs threatened to give out as they refused to take even another step past the entrance. 

“Harry?” 

The voice startled Harry and he snapped his head up to see Louis standing there through blurry vision. At first, he thought his tattered mind was imagining him, his oversized sweatshirt covering his hands and his track pants bunched at his ankles over sock covered feet. He looked so soft and perfect, a representation of all their intimate days at home together away from the spotlight. 

“You’re home,” Louis breathed out and Harry didn’t want to place any meaning behind his tone. He didn’t want to be too hopeful. 

Harry sniffed back a sob and knew it looked just as ugly as it sounded. He never had been an elegant cryer. 

“Lou.” Harry’s voice cracked when he said it. 

Louis stepped forward as he lifted his hands and shook the sleeves down to his wrists. His hands were warm against Harry’s face as he swiped his thumbs across Harry’s cheekbones, just below his eyes to wipe away his tears. 

“The song…” Louis said with an unreadable expression as he searched Harry’s face. 

“I know,” Harry croaked, his hands itching to touch but not sure if he was allowed. “I write too many songs about you.” 

Another unattractive sniff, his nose scrunching up as he did. 

“No, you write the perfect amount,” Louis said softly as he brought Harry’s face down just enough to press their lips together when he went up on his toes. It was a chaste press, but enough to push another sob against Louis’ lips. 

“I didn’t…” Harry started, but he wasn’t sure where to go with it. He had so much he wanted to say, needed to say, yet he had already run out of words. 

“I know,” Louis’ answer sounded wet and, when he pulled back just an inch, Harry saw that his eyes were flooded as well. He let out a huff of a laugh. “We’re both so fucking stubborn sometimes.”

Harry let out a relieved laugh, lifting a hand to swipe at his nose. They could both be so dramatic. It was bound to happen when two big personalities like theirs collided. It was also why they worked. 

“I didn’t mean it, you know I’ll never mean it,” Harry as their lips collided in a desperate kiss like they were drowning and finally sucking in gulps of air. 

“I know, I know,” Louis murmured back as Harry’s back made a thud as he was backed against the door. “Always my baby, even when you’re being difficult.” 

“I thought… I don’t know what I thought,” Harry said with a small sob, everything messy between but neither of them cared. 

“Always you, baby, always you.” 

They had so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but first they needed that physical reassurance. Soon Harry was falling again, but this time it was back into their bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> [here's a fic post](https://jaerie.tumblr.com/post/611087842323677184/im-falling-again-m-3k-by-jaerie-harry-sat-on)


End file.
